Seeds
by Eden Evergreen
Summary: Mangaverse: spoilers enclosed. A "what if" scenario that adheres as closely as possible to canon. It will imagine a few things that might possibly have happened "offstage" among various characters from the secluded Seeds Ship Village, often while Vash himself was away.
1. Legend

**Author's Note:**_ I have tried to keep spoilers to a minimum, yet this tale does contain them. You have been warned! _:)

_**Mangaverse**__: This chapter would be set roughly when the manga begins. Future chapters will parallel the manga, and then possibly go beyond. Although this first chapter theoretically occurs very early in the manga, it includes information gleaned from Trigun Maximum Volume 3, chapter 6 (and following). I'm using numbers based upon "scanlations" (since I cannot read Japanese), so the dates / numbers may need tweaking if I ever get my hands on an official translation._

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in that series. I only borrow, and that with respect - and without any money involved._

...

**Legend**

I cannot pinpoint when or how it began, with me.

However, I have learned how it began with our village.

He was found by people from our village, collapsed in the desert, about 50 years before I was born. Even he did not know with precision how long or how far he had wandered, before hunger, thirst, heartbreak and dehydration came terribly close to ending his life.

He was in such bad shape that those who brought him into our hospital feared he would die. They were all pleasantly surprised when he awoke and showed signs of recovering.

I have seen pictures. He looked young, like a person most people would expect to be around 14 or 16 years old. However, he was closer to 80 at that time. He's not an ordinary human, like we are. He's a plant, who lives outside of time... and outside of a bulb.

He seems to have stopped aging since then, leaving him appearing like an ordinary human who's in his early to middle twenties. Yet he has lived for more than a century. In fact, he's slightly over half way through his second century.

When our ancestors found him, most of his left arm had been cut off. His straight blonde hair tended to stick out in all directions, as it still does when he hasn't made it stand up like a crown of wheat stalks after a harvest. Even then, his clear aqua eyes showed that his spirit was burdened with worries and pain.

He is a very gentle soul, who has been compelled to resist a terribly violent man with a grudge against humanity. We would not survive against this enemy, without his aid. It has been tried, so it is not mere speculation or theory. This enemy can destroy us at will; we cannot stand against him. However, the man our ancestors found... he can.

Because he is strong, he chooses to protect humanity from this threat that we could not resist by ourselves. It hurts him, having to do this. Yet he continues, for it needs to be done and no other can do it.

Because he is different from us, he has been rejected and abused many times by other humans. In some ways, his soul has been more deeply scarred than his body.

Yet, somehow, instead of making his spirit as twisted and distorted as his poor broken body appears, those hardships and abuse have made him even more gentle and caring.

He will smile, no matter how much he is hurting inside. He will find time to play with the children. He will take the trouble to learn the name of every soul in the village. Even knowing that we'll die long before he will, and that he will grieve deeply for each person he meets - he _still_ wants to meet everyone here.

His friends die, his acquaintances are killed, and some of those he calls friends will point a gun to his head. Yet he still continues to wander around, in his own personal hell, saving so many... his troubles and his scars just keep adding up. Somehow, he manages to keep his focus on the bright side of life.

There was always an awareness of him, throughout our village, during my whole life. The self-appointed "guardian angel" of No Man's Land, Vash the Stampede, considers _us_ his family and _our_ village his home. We are very proud of him!

Though he rarely visits recently, he keeps in touch by way of the ear radio we gave him. We always know that, when he is away, he is fighting to protect every life that he possibly can. Nobody could have survived what he has, without learning effective tactics. His methods are said to be unusual, but none can dispute his results of many lives spared.

How could we not love him for these things?

Except for us, he is alone. So we do what we can to support him: little things, like providing him with a prosthetic arm, protective clothing, and money.

He still loves his brother, and grieves for everything that fiend has done. He still hopes to change his brother's mind. Yet if that effort fails, then he will fight... to the death, if necessary... to defend humanity. He has come dangerously near to death many times, in the process of trying to save others from his brother or other threats.

His deep compassion, his pain, his determination, his scars, his gentleness, his humor... somehow, who and what he is has touched more than my mind.

I always knew, and have never doubted, that Vash has no romantic intent toward anyone.

His love for everyone is entirely platonic, compassionate and utterly altruistic. That love is also very deep; it is an integral part of who he is. His compassionate heart thinks of everyone as if we were his sisters and brothers, or nieces and nephews, or daughters and sons. He has no favorites.

I was a bashful loner. In that one small personality quirk, I was a little like him. Who he is has awakened something within my heart that has never since slept.

I have heard it said that "it is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all." That may be true for ordinary humans, who need not live more than a few decades after losing the one they love. I no longer believe that saying can ever be true for Vash.

If Vash ever chooses a bride, she should be one of his own kind. He needs someone who can live as long as he does.

To my shame, I did not realize these truths entirely on my own. They were taught to me, by one who loved me, and Vash, well enough to tell me the truth - even when it hurt.

At first, I resented my uncle for sticking his nose in where I hadn't invited him. I don't know how he figured it out, but he knew. It's not for nothing that he's called "sensei" by most of the village.

"Consider this man you love, my dear heart," he spoke firmly, yet with a profound gentleness. "Consider how deeply he mourns the loss of a mere acquaintance. Consider how perfectly he remembers everyone's face and name, and all he has ever learned about each person, no matter how many years have passed since last he saw them. Consider how he knows the names on every gravestone, even those that have worn completely away from the surface of the stone, and how gently he touches each stone and speaks the name of the person buried there."

"If you think about those things," he said, "you will discover that his mind does not seem to function like ours. For us, past memories soften and fade over time. It appears that he retains memory perfectly, without it ever fading. Now consider your father, who still mourns your mother."

"Tell me truthfully, my dear heart," he challenged me. "Would it be a kindness to put the man you love through the same agony that your father suffers, every hour of every day, for hundreds or perhaps even _thousands_ of years?"

I stayed away from his office, and the hospital, for months after that conversation.

I watched my father, still mourning my mother 20 years after her death. I rarely saw any joy in him when he recalled her. Instead, he usually overflowed with sorrow, grief and a terrible, aching loneliness. It weighed on him heavily, day after day. He tried to live, and move on, believing that is what mother would have wanted. But he failed, consistently.

My father died last week. One morning, he simply did not wake up. Now I stay with my uncle, who is my only biological relative. Here in the village we all consider each other kin. However, when it comes to living arrangements; biology usually takes precedence.

As I grew to understand that what I craved with Vash could never be, I wept a great deal. Months of mourning passed, mourning for what might have been... if only I were of his race. Alas, I cannot become what he is. I can only pray that one who is like him will come into his life, and that she will be good for him.

That is one of several reasons why I have begun to help out in the message center, now and then. I hope that if we can contact Earth, they may have more free-walking plants. Perhaps, through that means, he can find companionship that he'll not lose too soon. Maybe there will be a plant from Earth that will be worthy of his love, who can cure his loneliness completely.

Sometimes, the only way to express love is through sacrifice. I understand this now, though it was a very difficult and painful lesson to learn. The best way that I can share my love with Vash is to let him go. I must sacrifice my own selfish wishes, every time I encounter him. Instead, I allow him to do what he must do, unburdened by concerns or distractions from knowing about what happens deep within my still-selfish heart.

However, I must admit to a strong wish that _someone_ would explain these realities to young Jessica! It hurts to listen to her, so loudly professing in her innocent arrogance that she will claim Vash for her own.

Clearly, she does not even begin to understand or appreciate who and what Vash really is.

I hope her foolishness will not wound his tender heart further, when he hears her.

He deserves better than that.

...

...

...

...

**Author's Note**: _Although this first chapter occurs early in the manga, this tale will continue through the time of the manga and possibly even extend beyond it. It may be very mildly "AU," since I'm not sure if the people of No Man's Land would have all the technology needful to accomplish some of the things that will occur in chapter 2. However, I shall do my best to adhere tightly to canon, where ever information is provided._

_By the way, the PoV speaker is a canon character. Hopefully her identity will become clear in future chapters, if this chapter is too vague. *grin*_


	2. Unknown

**Author's Note**: _This chapter has spoilers from Trigun Maximum: mostly from volume 1._

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in that series. I only borrow, and that with respect._

...

**Unknown**

One of my worst fears has become a reality. It is a nightmare that does not leave upon waking.

There must have been some manner of confrontation between the two, again. Nothing else could explain the phenomenon that occurred three weeks ago.

Last time they faced each other, a city was decimated and very few survived. This time, the top of Juneora rock was sheared off, and there is a huge crater in the fifth moon.

Worst of all, Vash has gone missing.

It has been nearly a year since my father died. I've been living with my uncle, and helping out around the hospital on and off for something to do. I still visit the message center regularly, hoping for news and running the occasional errand.

I've also found myself attending some of the council meetings with my uncle. I begin to suspect that he is training me, in his quiet way, to take his place when he grows so old that he must retire. I have no objection to that. If that happens, I will do my best to fill his place as he would have done.

Since I'd been staying close to him, and had shown myself restless in recent weeks, it did not surprise my uncle, much, when I wandered into the room. He was in one of the hospital's laboratories, staring at the sample freezer there.

We have all been terribly worried since the new, huge crater appeared in the fifth moon three weeks ago. I've cried myself to sleep every night, worrying and praying for him. I drive myself when awake, trying to keep too busy to think or feel.

So I understood the concerned expression on my uncle's face. What I didn't understand, at first, was the reason why he was staring so thoughtfully toward the sample freezer.

I just went over to him, got on my knees (Uncle is very short), and I hugged him.

He leaned back against me, accepting my hug. Then he sighed, and resumed staring at the sample freezer.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I was trying to decide what we should do with his samples, if he doesn't come back," he said. "It would be such a tragedy if nothing of him were to remain, yet I wonder if he'd want us to... I just don't know." My uncle shook his head, sadly. "I pray he's alive, and well, and just temporarily unable to contact us."

"I pray that, too," I said. Yet it was past the time when Vash usually sent word. No letter, no radio message, and no appearance were not good signs. If, as seemed likely, there had been a confrontation, the lack of word was even more alarming. "If there's something I can do, please tell me," I added. "You know I'd do anything for him."

"I don't know," Uncle said. He frowned more deeply in thought, still looking at the sample freezer.

Suddenly an assortment of dots connected in my mind. All manner of samples were kept in that freezer. Tissue samples, blood, preserved organs... and human seed.

I grabbed my uncle's arm. "His samples, you said," I gasped, barely above a whisper. "Does that mean... do we have some of his seed?"

Uncle's eyes flicked toward me, and, for a moment, he was perfectly still. Then, very slowly, he nodded his head.

My grip on his arm tightened as my heart skipped a beat. I wasn't surprised that Uncle had not mentioned this sooner. As long as Vash was known to be alive and well, there would be no ethical reason to consider what I now hoped.

"Please," I whispered. "I'm old enough. I know that, even if he returns, nothing can change between us. But in case he doesn't... something from him should survive. Please."

"It would need to be discussed with the council," he said slowly.

"Even if his child's lifespan is more like his than ours," I said softly, "it's normal for a child to outlive their parent. It won't cause his child any extra grief to live longer than I do. Please, let me do this. I know I will love any child of his, with my whole heart."

"There are more questions than that, dear heart," he said gently. "Not only whether to attempt it, but also what to do if Vash returns. He may not be pleased to learn he has a child that was made without his involvement or consent."

"If he is hiding to elude pursuit, his child could become a target," I whispered, "_if_ his enemies knew that he had one. Wouldn't it be best if nobody knows, outside of the council, except for the few needed to make it happen?"

"This is a close-knit village," Uncle said speculatively. "It wouldn't be easy to conceal such an unusual child." He looked at me in a way that suggested he had several ideas about how to proceed, but he wanted to know if I was using my intelligence wisely enough to invent some workable solutions myself.

I thought about it, and then shared my ideas. "If the council approves, I should go away to one of our outposts," I said. "That way, nobody will see anything unusual about the pregnancy, or the child's first year. Hopefully, by then, we will know something of what is happening in Vash's life. When we have more information, we can do a better job of deciding what else to do."

"And if he returns?" Uncle prompted.

"Perhaps he shouldn't be told," I said softly. "Didn't he say that Knives can sense his emotions, when they're strong, from any distance? He would naturally feel very strongly about his own child. It might be safest for both Vash and his child if he remains unaware, at least until Knives is defeated."

"I see that you are trying to think, and not just feel," Uncle said approvingly. "You are young, and healthy, and as likely a candidate as any other. The council already knows you, and likes you reasonably well. I will speak with them, though I expect you already understand why you cannot attend those sessions."

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Don't thank me yet," he said amiably. "We don't yet know their decision. Even if they approve, this will be very difficult for you."

"I know," I said softly. "However, in some ways, it will also make my life easier. I've not yet learned how to love him any less, Uncle. I can't marry anyone else, while still loving him this much. If I am permitted to bear and raise this child, at least that would allow me to express some of the love to his child that I cannot share directly with him. I promise: I won't resent him, if he never learns that he's become a father. Nor will I speak ill of him to his child."

I felt heat in my face. It was difficult for me to speak of these feelings, which ran so deep inside of me, so openly. I had been learning to bury them, so that Vash would never detect them. I would leave them buried, deep within myself, for the rest of my life... if necessary.

Now I had a new hope, though it was both slim and faint, that I _might_ have an opportunity to openly love someone who came from him. I was convinced that his child, whether son or daughter, would have to be nearly as wonderful as he is. I found myself impatient to meet this new person, and see what he or she would be like.

"Stay away from the freezer," Uncle said as he turned and began walking toward the door.

I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. "I will," I promised.

"Thanks," he called over his shoulder as he left the room.

...

The council approved making the attempt, and the general outline of the plan I had suggested to my uncle.

It took four tries, two weeks apart, before a pregnancy test turned up positive. I was glad, partly because it was extremely uncomfortable to have that syringe go into my abdomen. I was also glad because it had worked - until it did, none of us had known if it could.

A week later, Uncle had Brad take me to an outpost where an older woman was already stationed. Brad only knew that I had been assigned to go there, and that he was chosen to escort me partly because of his size. The likelihood was that if any had an impulse to cause trouble, they would be less inclined to tangle with someone who looked as large and capable as Brad.

He spent most of the trip grumbling about being away from Jessica, poor fellow. I knew how he felt. I also cared deeply for someone who did not understand how much I loved him. Brad was luckier than I, though. The one he loved could be told, and there was a possibility that she might one day return his love.

Jessica just needed to get over her infatuation with Vash. She wanted Vash to stay with her, without realizing that Vash couldn't stay anywhere as long as Knives remained both free and genocidal. She could be sweet at times, but she also ran impatient. I knew she would grow weary of being alone, and when that happened Brad would have his chance.

I tried to tell him that, as gently as I could. He sounded skeptical. I suppose his current level of attachment to her prevented him from seeing how shallow and fickle she is, when she fails to get what she wants. Hopefully, after she turns her attention to him, Jessica will remain loyal. She'd really have no reason not to be, since Brad would be staying with her from that hour onward.

I just hope Brad won't be too disappointed, when he learns that the girl he loves has less depth as a person than he does.

We arrived safely at the outpost, and I bid him farewell. The most difficult part was ahead of me.

...

Yvonne, the older woman already at that outpost, proved to be a kind and patient soul. Uncle had chosen well. She seemed surprised when she learned I was expecting. She had been a mother, and was now a grandmother. She seemed pleased to help me through my first pregnancy. It _was_ awkward when she asked about the child's father, though.

"I'm surprised," she said, after two months had passed and my belly was beginning to distend, "that you are content to be here instead of back home with your family. I'm even more surprised that the child's father isn't visiting. Is everything ok between you two?"

I managed a smile. "We didn't want a family line to die out," I said. "With council permission, I am pregnant by way of a frozen sample taken from someone who is... gone." My voice nearly broke with the last word. I hoped and prayed that his being "gone" was only a temporary situation. But I didn't know, and that "not knowing" was hurting me both night and day.

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry," she said softly.

Thankfully, she asked no further questions.

Like everyone else from our village, she was concerned about Vash's continued absence and silence. We prayed together for his health and safety, every night.

Thankfully, I wasn't too badly ill as the months progressed.

Since Yvonne didn't know for how long I'd been pregnant when I arrived, she thought nothing of the rapidity with which I came to term six months later.

It seems that hybrid human-plant children have a shorter gestation period than normal humans. I knew this child would be likely to grow very quickly during the first year, based on what Vash had told the various medical professionals at our village. The plan was to send Yvonne home a week after I gave birth, to conceal the child's rapid growth.

The doctors informed me that the process of my child's birth was completely normal. It hurt, but I had known that was likely. After several hours of labor, when my daughter was finally born I was thoroughly exhausted.

They washed her and placed her in my arms, and I saw her for the first time. What little hair she has is blonde, like her father's. She has my dark eyes. Her face is long and narrow; there's no telling which of us is responsible for that, since it's a trait we both share.

"Lumia," I named her, as I held her and kissed her tiny face.

...

A year later, we returned to our home village. During that year, Lumia had grown to appear like a human child of 10 or 11 years. I had to explain to her about the need to conceal her true heritage.

We are compelled to lie. It must appear as if the child I gave birth to had died, and that I chose to adopt an older child so that neither of us would hurt for lack of family. Nobody liked this deception, but none in the council, nor my uncle, nor myself could think of a better solution. Lumia could think of no better solution, either.

I love her more each day. Not only because of who her father is, but also because of who she is. I was correct in my anticipation that any child of Vash's would be remarkable. Lumia is more than I had ever dreamed. I thank God each day that I am permitted to know her. She is a treasure, and will surely become a blessing to the whole village.

...

Not long after we returned to our village, the long hoped-for message came.

Vash made contact, and arranged to meet Uncle and Brad in another town. He would not come to the village at this time, because those who pursued him were extraordinarily dangerous and he wished to protect us by staying away.

I ran home to Lumia, and hugged her. "He's alive, dear heart," I told her. "One day you will be able to meet your father, as we've hoped and prayed. He's _alive_!"

She hugged me, and we both laughed and cried in our delight over the news.


	3. Issue

**.**

**Request to Reviewers**: _Please do not include the name of Lumia's mother in public reviews, after you figure it out. Let's permit future readers to discover her identity on their own, ok? *winks conspiratorially*_

**Author's Note:**_ Spoilers for Trigun Maximum Volumes 1-4._

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in that series. I only borrow, and that with respect._

...

**Issue**

After Uncle and Brad returned, things were quiet for a short time.

Brad was grumpy, at first, after interacting with outsiders. He never has liked them much. It was also difficult for him to face the man that Jessica so loudly expresses a preference for: the poor fellow probably felt like he was meeting his competition.

He probably doesn't understand that Vash isn't trying to compete. I think he will come to understand that, though. Brad is only seventeen. Some things are seen more clearly as one grows older.

Uncle told us how Vash had saved more lives, by interfering with people who had taken hostages and held up a sand steamer. He accomplished this partly by using his own evil reputation, partly by behaving like a [crazy] buffoon, and partly by using his outstanding marksmanship.

Unfortunately, Vash was also badly beaten in the process. He could barely walk away from that sand steamer, because he was so weary from the stress, the exertion of the battle, and the beating he got.

I encouraged Uncle to tell these and other stories about Vash at dinnertime. That way Lumia would be done with the daily schoolwork assigned by her tutor, and able to hear the stories, too. I want her to know all about her father.

She always listens with rapt attention, her eyes wide with wonder.

One night, while I was in her room sharing bedtime prayers, she looked troubled. "What is it, dear heart?" I asked.

"I think I'm beginning to understand," she said softly, "why you wanted Vash to have a child. But what if I disappoint everyone? I don't think I can be as good as he is."

I took her into my arms, and held her close. "Oh Lumia," I said as I gently kissed her, "What we wanted was for a part of him, someone that we could still love, to continue... even if we lost him. Just by being alive, you fulfill that."

"Besides," I added, gently stroking her hair, "we also love you for yourself. We never expected you to grow into a duplicate Vash. You are a delightful and wonderful person just exactly as you are. I'm proud of you, and I'm sure that Uncle and the council are proud, too. When ever Vash learns how the two of you are related, I expect him to be delighted with you."

"Really?" she said, as if incompletely convinced.

"Really," I said as gently and reassuringly as I could. I meant it, completely, and I hoped she could feel that.

"Thank you, Mama," she said. "I think I'd like to be a doctor, like Uncle, instead of a sharpshooter like my father."

"Then I will speak with Uncle tomorrow," I said, smiling, "and we can start adding medical courses to your schooling." I hugged her again.

"That would be wonderful!" she said. She hugged me in return.

Lumia was only a couple of months past her first birthday. Thankfully, the council had arranged for her to receive schooling separate from our village's other children. She was learning and growing so quickly!

She'd completed grade school learning while we were at the outpost. She was already nearly finished with her high school studies.

Adding medical college courses, in the near future, as strange as it sounds, is entirely appropriate for her. She loves to learn, and she is constantly into the computer seeking more things to learn.

Lumia now appears much like a human child of twelve or thirteen, and she's thin as a rail. She is very slightly taller than I was at those ages, but given her father's height and build that's not too surprising. Fortunately, her blonde hair is not quite as unruly as her father's. That helps her to blend in with everyone else here better than she might otherwise do.

I'd begun wearing my hair spiked since she was about six months old. Her hair was strongly inclined to stand up back then, as Vash's does. Now that it's longer, her hair will flow around her head more softly.

I've continued wearing my hair stiffly upright, like her father does, however. It is almost the only way that I can plainly express my loyalty for him. It feels good to be able to do something in plain sight, even though the message is so cryptic that none may ever decipher it. The hairstyle doesn't flatter me, but I've never been (and never will be) a beauty. So I may as well do something that makes me feel good.

It was only a few days after our conversation about Lumia's probable future occupation that trouble arrived. Uncle was among the first to realize that something was wrong. We began searching, trying to discover if his gut instinct had any basis in fact.

People started going missing, and screams were heard at night. The trouble began at the end of the residential area, where Yvonne had lived. She and her family were among the first that the puppet-master slew and converted into his macabre minions.

We tried to organize ourselves, to resist this menace. Brad threw Jessica into an escape pod, and sent her away. I wished I could do the same for Lumia, but we had become separated.

He was clever, this puppet-master, and well-practiced. More and more members of our village fell to his devices. And then the other one came.

My dear Lumia went missing, too. I was terrified for her, and searched unceasingly as I did what little I could to help resist these intruders. My uncle also went missing, adding to my dismay.

Unfortunately, as a people, we are out of practice with combat and weapons. Such things had been viewed as a hobby, an opportunity to recall parts of human history that no longer applied to us. We were fighting a losing battle, and I think everyone knew it.

Thankfully, Vash had learned of our peril and was on his way.

...

Most of the battle days are a blur of horror to me, for I quickly grew terribly weary from my ceaseless searching for Lumia and my uncle. Thankfully, she survived.

My daughter had been captured by the puppet-master, but he had not killed her. He thought he could trick Vash into slaying a few people that had not been killed and converted into his morbid puppets.

Lumia was terribly frightened when that fiend released her with a group of his horrible creations. She recognized her father from his pictures she'd seen, and from his red coat. When she saw him, naturally she ran toward him. Vash shot her in the shoulder, not knowing that she wasn't merely another dead puppet.

She had the presence of mind to keep quiet beyond crying out in pain. He took care of her after that. As soon as he could, he hid her in a safe place while he finished battling with the puppet-master.

I quietly slipped her in to see her father, after Brad found him and carried him to our hospital. Vash was still unconscious, as was his dark-haired friend.

Lumia was still in pain from her shoulder injury, but she wanted to see Vash before she would settle down to rest and recover. We stood quietly beside his hospital bed for a short time, and then she nodded. I took her back to her own hospital room.

"He was so gentle and caring toward me," Lumia said softly, "even though he had no idea who I was or that we are related. He risked his life to protect me. I love him now, from meeting him. It's not only from stories anymore. I'm proud to be his daughter."

I got her settled, and then very briefly went back to look in on him. He still slept. He appeared so peaceful in his sleep, with his gentle eyes closed and concealing all of his inner turmoil and pain. I hoped, for his sake, that he was having peaceful dreams. I returned to Lumia's room, and stayed with her that night.

Jessica had returned, with two female outsiders who said they were Vash's friends. They wanted to help out around the hospital while he recovered, so I saw to it that they were given appropriate attire, supplies, and instructions.

My uncle's body was found among the puppets. The council officially requested that I step into his place with them. I accepted, knowing that is what he would have wanted. We had some discussions, quietly, about what to do. Decisions were made, and began to be carried out.

The casualty reports kept coming in. Some of the council members were dead, as was the gynecologist who helped Lumia's life to begin. Now none save myself, Lumia, and the surviving council members knew my daughter's lineage.

I was in Lumia's room and heard the hubbub, from there, when Vash finally awoke. At least half of the surviving villagers were outside of his room, hoping and waiting.

I went to his room, too. I arrived just as he was condemning himself for the attacks. He was talking as if he was to blame for the actions of those terrible assassins! I put a stop to that, immediately.

"Refrain from such talk," I said. "Why are you thinking like that? If it was not for you and that man over there, we ... all of us... would have been dead by now."

He called my name, sounding surprised.

"Long time no see, Vash," I said. "We are _really_ thankful to you." I wanted to do as Jessica had done, and throw my arms around him. Yet I knew I shouldn't even consider such an impulsive action.

Perhaps it was good that I'd heard him yelp in pain when Jessica hugged him, so I knew that his injuries were not yet healed enough. Even a gentle hug would probably hurt him. Knowing that helped me to maintain my self-control.

I need to behave in a more reserved manner than giving way to an impulse to hug him - especially now that I am a councilwoman. It is more important that I retain his trust, and that of the council, than that I satisfy a selfish emotional whim.

There was some speculation that the attackers served Knives, to which Vash replied "Probably."

"From now on, the council will conduct what is left of the investigation," I said, "and also shut this ship off from outsiders."

Vash asked about my uncle, but I could not bear to say it. So I ignored his question. I know that he is wise enough to understand what is not said, when a question of that nature is not answered.

"Anyway, you have to relax your body," I told him. I turned to the two outsiders. "May I count on you guys a little longer? My many thanks to you both... just ask Jessica if you have any questions."

They agreed. The smaller, dark-haired one had a look in her eye that I suspected I understood better than she might ever believe. Poor, dear Vash... he doesn't need another Jessica right now. I hope, for his sake and hers, that she has enough sense to avoid making herself that type of a nuisance to him.

Of course, he would be kind and gentle toward her even if she did... that's just who he is.

Vash seemed inclined to apologize again, so I reminded him that he's family. Then I shooed away everyone who was clustered around the doorway to his hospital room, partly by reminding them that we have work to do.

I returned to Lumia's room. She was sitting up in her bed, wide-eyed and expectant.

"He's awake," I told her. This one, I could and did hug - but gently, to avoid causing her injured shoulder any additional pain.

"Thank God," she whispered.

"Yes," I agreed.

...

Not long after Vash's dark-haired companion awoke, he came looking for me.

I have since wondered if he approached me simply because I had been in their hospital room and was somewhat familiar, or if he had asked around and learned that I am the resident expert on "Vash the Stampede." I suppose it doesn't really matter, but it is interesting that he came to me, and not to another.

I learned much about Vash during my youth. I pestered Uncle with even more questions from the time when we first discussed the possibility of creating Vash's child. It was no longer a selfish curiosity, at that point. Any information might prove important, while raising his offspring.

I hoped that my uncle had not withheld anything significant. I could no longer ask him anything about Vash, or any other subject. I miss Uncle, and will continue to mourn him in my heart for a long time. In some ways, he was always a father to me.

Vash's outsider friend had one of those filthy cigarettes in his mouth. He'd had the courtesy not to light it, but I couldn't stand the sight or stench of it. So I pulled it out of his mouth and threw it away.

"This is about Vash, isn't it?" I asked. "Because of him, you've been through a lot of fights while traveling with him..."

He muttered a few words about that being normal for him. Then he got to the point. "It seems that you've known him for a long time," he said, and asked me to tell him all that I know.

Well, _that_ wasn't going to happen! However, I could tell him a few basic things that Vash probably wouldn't consider a confidence that needed to be kept.

I told him how our people had found Vash seventy years ago, missing an arm and collapsed on the desert sands. I told him how surprised we had been when he regained consciousness, and how his recovery accelerated after he started walking around in the ship. All of what I told him up to that point were things that everyone in our village knew.

Then he asked a more personal question. "... Is he attempting absolution? Is that what it is?" he asked.

I am ashamed to admit that I blurted out a blunt answer. "That's a stupid question," I said. "Just by looking at the scars on his body, you'd know it. He would be using his true immortality if he erased the scars on his body."

Before I could say anything else that might best be left unsaid, there was an interruption. The two prisoners had broken out of their cage.

Vash's friend told me not to worry. "If they're looking for someone, it's gonna be me or the girls," he said.

I wasn't convinced. They might go after Vash, who was barely steady on his feet. He'd insisted on helping with the clean-up, so he'd been permitted out of his hospital room on condition that he didn't overdo.

It's almost impossible to keep that man down, when he needs to heal! Since keeping him reasonably quiet is the best compromise we can usually achieve, we gave him permission to do a little sweeping.

When it was checked, and Vash wasn't found sweeping where he was expected to be, I told them to check the cryo sleep area. That had always been Vash's favorite part of the ship. And that is where we found him, with the two female outsiders, under attack from the escaped prisoners.

We arrived just in time for Vash's friend to prevent the escaped prisoners from shooting him. I tried my best to appear calm, though my heart was racing. Sometimes Vash is too careless of his own safety.

His friend began to scold him, and Vash smiled and called himself hopeless.

That's when I learned his friend's name was Wolfwood, because Vash called him by name as he accepted the scolding. I saw his prosthetic arm sitting on the ground behind him, and I ached for him. Why could those prisoners not leave Vash alone?

Our security people arrived about then, and Vash directed them to check on the likely path the prisoners had taken, to see if anyone had been shot. Dear Vash, always so worried about everyone else... I suppressed a sigh, and tried to keep my face impassive.

When Wolfwood made a sarcastic remark, I found myself reflexively defending Vash. "He knows everyone's names and faces around here," I said, smiling.

Wolfwood said something insulting.

"I'm serious," I said. "Living his long life of suffering... all he does are _nice_ things. In all the times he's been here, he has met a lot of people. His friends die, his acquaintances are killed. Those he calls friends may point a gun to his head. And yet he still continues to wander around, in his own hell, smiling. He's going around, tinkering dizzily, saving so many... his scars and his troubles just keep adding up."

"He's a true gunman," I continued, "who's only looking at the bright side of life."

Wolfwood's harsh, sarcastic expression softened. He began to look almost mournful.

"Oi," Vash said, "Wolfwood, you look _really_ funny right now."

I went to check on Lumia, to discover that she had another thing in common with her father. Specifically, she was displaying a disinclination to rest and heal when injured. I sighed and called for her tutor, who thankfully was among the survivors. That would give her something to do that included holding still.

Vash came by Lumia's room for a short visit, later that day, when I was again checking in on her.

"Hello," he said cautiously, peering in through the doorway.

"Vash, come in," I said.

"Are you sure I'm wanted here?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, please come in," Lumia said.

"Vash, this is Lumia," I performed the introduction. "Lumia, this is Vash."

"Pleased to meet you," they said almost simultaneously. Then they laughed a little nervously, and shook hands.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you," he said sadly. "I didn't realize quickly enough..."

"I've already forgiven you for that," she said. "Thank you for getting me out of there. I was so scared of that mean man! I don't know what would have happened to me, if you hadn't come." She beckoned to him, and he drew nearer to her. When he was within reach, she gently hugged him and kissed his cheek.

I think those words, and her gently affectionate hug, did him at least as much good as my own scolding had. Possibly more.

He blushed slightly. "Thank you for forgiving me," he said softly.

They talked quietly with each other for a few minutes, before he had to leave. He needed to attend a dinner where he was expected. He seemed mildly reluctant to go, but that may have been my imagination. He keeps so much buried deep inside of himself that it is often difficult to recognize his moods with accuracy.

He visited again the following afternoon, and in addition to a short visit, they played a game of checkers. The next day they traded some jokes. The following day he was telling her about some history, from a time period that she was currently studying for her schoolwork.

Vash still has no idea who Lumia is, or how they are related. We can't tell him, not yet - not while Knives remains a threat. It would put both of them into too much danger.

However, it does my heart good to see the two of them getting along so well. If they can't be family, I hope that they can at least be friends.

...

I learned from Brad that Jessica keeps inviting Vash to dinner, nearly every night. Vash always invites Wolfwood, Brad, and often at least one other guy to attend with him. This practice was severely taxing Jessica's none-too-plentiful supply of patience.

Last night, Vash left the dinner early with Wolfwood, leaving the other two guys behind to face Jessica's wrath. I daresay this type of tactic will eventually prove effective, and Vash will begin losing favor with Jessica.

Vash always seems so innocent, but I have learned it's usually not from ignorance. Instead, it's generally from a conscious, deliberate choice - and effort - to avoid becoming guilty. He is far more clever than he allows most people to realize.

When Vash and Wolfwood left Jessica's dinner early, they went to the message center. It chanced that while they were there, a message came in from earth. Our dreams were realized... Earth heard our broadcast, and replied!

Everyone gathered to celebrate... mostly by taking in far too much alcohol. Vash was accosted by the small, dark-haired outsider girl and pulled to a table. I'd expected him to join in the celebration, but seeing that girl pull an almost-Jessica on him, well, it did make me worry about him.

I thought of my uncle, and privately thanked him for helping establish the protocols for the message center. If he hadn't instructed them to keep broadcasting, then that return message might never have arrived.

Early this morning, Vash quietly left. Brad was up, and challenged him.

He refused to say goodbye to Jessica, even though Brad asked him to do so. He's trying to discourage her, in his own way. I only hope that she will be able to figure it out sooner, instead of later.

Vash indicated to Brad that Knives was responsible for the signal loss that happened earlier this morning. He gave Brad instructions to tell me, but nobody else. He didn't want people to worry.

That's Vash. He's always very concerned for the happiness and welfare of everyone else. I sometimes wonder who, besides Lumia and me, worries about _him_...

It's probably just as well that he left so abruptly, though I could wish the reason were different. At least this way, he won't notice that Lumia is healing quickly. She doesn't recover as swiftly as he does, though it's still much faster than any ordinary human would heal. He would have discovered that, if he had stayed.

I hope this secret won't need to be kept forever. I think Lumia and her father would be very good for each other, whether I'm viewed as part of their family or not.


	4. Determination

**.**

**Request to Reviewers**: _Please do not include the name of Lumia's mother in public reviews, after you figure it out. Let's permit future readers to discover her identity on their own, ok? *winks conspiratorially*_

**Author's Note:**_ In this chapter, there are spoilers for Trigun Maximum Volumes 4-8_.

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in that series. I only borrow, and that with respect._

...

**Determination**

When Lumia was released from the hospital and came home, she asked me, "Mama, do you know... is it normal for plant-kind to overhear each other's emotions?"

"I have heard of it happening," I said, "though usually only if the emotion is _very_ strong."

"Then Papa must have been _very_ worried about our village," she said. "I felt that, and I knew he was coming before he got here. When he first arrived, he was fooled by the puppets, and felt relieved, and then so happy that he cried. Then he was terribly shocked, as he saw what they were, and then there was such incredible pain and sadness..." There were tears forming in her eyes at the memory of her father's sorrow, when he learned he'd arrived too late to save some of the people in our village.

I came to her and hugged her. "He really cares about us, dear heart," I said. "If he knew or suspected that we were in danger, I'm sure he came as quickly as he possibly could."

"I know he did," she whispered. "I just thought it was only my imagination, at first, because I hoped so much that he might come. But then I saw him, and I saw in his face and eyes exactly what I was overhearing. Before that, I didn't know it was him."

I kissed her forehead. "Then you may always know when he's all right," I said, "and that's more than any of the rest of us can know."

"It does seem to partly depend on how far away he is," she said thoughtfully, recalling my initial response to her question. "Like the difference between hearing a voice in the same room, or in the next room if the door is partway open, or if it's echoing down the hall. The details blur at a distance, and you only notice what's loudest."

"Thank you for explaining it to me so clearly," I said to her, smiling. "So that's how you knew he cared for you, even though he never said so?"

"Yes," she said, and smiled bashfully. "I could feel it."

"Can you feel everybody's emotions that way?" I asked, curious.

"Yours, sometimes," she said. "Everybody else's are so faint that it's hard to be sure."

"Oh, that saves me some time then," I teased. "I won't have to tell you how much I love you anymore, since you can always feel it."

She giggled. "I still like to hear you say it," she said.

"Oh, all right then," I said, using an exaggerated sigh and pretending to grumble, "I suppose I can keep on saying it."

She giggled again, and I laughed with her as I hugged her again.

...

The next day, I sought the council's advice on someone to help train Lumia in controlling her emotions. If she could sense Vash's strongest emotions, then it was highly likely that he could also sense her emotions... when they were strong enough.

For that reason, Lumia must learn to avoid experiencing any emotion too strongly, where self-control was possible. It was also important that she not react too strongly to anything Vash was feeling, to avoid the danger of possibly distracting him at a critical moment.

I was almost more afraid that Knives might be able to overhear her emotions, if they grew strong enough. My daughter's emotions were none of _his_ business. At all. Ever.

When I spoke with the other council members about an appropriate tutor or counselor for Lumia's emotions, I learned other things as well.

The medical personnel had contacted the council about Vash. It seems they'd discovered records indicating that a seed sample had been extracted from Vash while he was unconscious, during an earlier visit to our village. Since the doctors were unable to find that sample, they took another (also while he was unconscious) during his most recent hospital stay.

So not only did Vash not know he had a daughter, but he also had no cause to imagine the possibility. He did not know that he had ever donated a seed sample, either previously or currently.

The new sample meant that there could be a second child by the same method as the first, if there should ever again be doubt of his survival. The other councilors did not put it that bluntly, but I caught the drift of their conversation and I did. I told them that if Vash disappeared again, I thought it might be good for Lumia to have a full sibling. They nodded, and a few smiled, and we left the matter there.

Since then, I keep catching myself half-hoping that Vash will go into hiding again, just long enough for Lumia to have a sibling. I worry that she'll be too alone without a biological brother or sister, after I'm gone.

...

About a month later, Lumia informed me that Vash was terribly thirsty. That worried me, until almost a week after that when she said, "Papa is very worried about something."

"Is he still thirsty?" I asked.

"No," Lumia said, "just very worried. It almost feels like he did when he was coming here, except that he's not coming closer this time."

The outsider females, Milly and Meryl, had left the village not too long after Vash and Wolfwood. They talked as if the four of them had been traveling companions. I wondered if something had befallen one of them, or Wolfwood.

"Let's pray for him," I suggested, "and for whatever is worrying him."

Lumia came and hugged me, and we did as I'd suggested until we both felt better.

The next day she told me that Vash was very angry. So we prayed for him again, before she went to visit her tutor. I made an appointment with the council, for them to hear what she had to say that evening.

That evening, Lumia had tears in her eyes as she told us that Vash's anger had stopped. However, instead of anger, there was a terrible crushing weight of mingled guilt and grief. We were all worried about him, and I suspect I was not the only one praying silently that his heart would heal.

The following day, Lumia continued to speak of feeling a nearly overpowering guilt and grief, when ever she opened herself to echoes of emotions from her father. Over time, that blend of guilt and grief began slowly transforming into a variety of despair.

That worried me more than his thirst. If only his body was broken, I knew he could recover. He had returned from the gates to the land of death so many times! However, if his heart became too badly broken... I prayed for him, every time I thought of him or of Lumia.

I later learned that Vash had been involved in a battle with some of Knives' assassins at Fort Ryuutsujou on the day when Lumia felt his anger. They had captured Meryl, and he fought with the aid of Milly and Wolfwood to rescue her. Some of those who attacked Vash and his companions had also killed each other.

Vash always felt badly if someone died as a side-effect of a battle where he was involved. I hoped this intense grief and guilt wasn't what he experienced every time he was unable to save someone. Yet Lumia had not sensed such extreme guilt or grief after the attack on our village.

Something else must have happened to pain his heart so badly. I never learned for certain what that was, though it may have had something to do with the incident at July.

...

Approximately two weeks later, Lumia and I were doing dishes after lunch when she tipped her head in the manner that meant she was "listening" for Vash's emotional echoes.

Suddenly she gasped, all color drained from her face, and her knees buckled. I barely caught her before she fell onto the ground.

"What is it?" I asked, concerned.

"It's horrible," she whispered. "It's hatred, of immense strength. I felt Papa's shock, reacting to it, so it couldn't be him that was feeling it. You said he had a brother who was evil? Could this be him?"

"It might be," I said softly. "Stop listening, please, at least for a little while. Try not to think or feel: just relax. If that is Knives, the best thing you can do is relax, as much as possible, so that he can't sense you."

She nodded. Her eyes were huge with alarm. Thankfully, her pulse was not racing nor was she displaying any other physical symptoms of fear. I hoped and prayed that meant she was not feeling it strongly enough for Knives to detect her.

I hugged her and talked soothingly of inconsequential things. Inside, I was worried for both her and her father.

...

Nearly three weeks after that, during lunch, Lumia said, "Papa's sorrow is growing again," and suddenly tears were spilling out of her eyes.

I got up, walked around the table, knelt on the floor beside her chair, and hugged her. "Perhaps it would be best not to listen in for a few days," I said gently. "I'm sorry he's hurting so much. I'd hug him too, if I could, and if I thought it would help."

"I know you would, Mama," she said tearfully.

"For you to hurt this much, too, though," I said, "it won't help him."

"I like to feel close to him," she said. "I'd rather feel his echoes, even when it hurts, than not feel him at all. Something bad just happened, or he just heard about it, and he was hurting so badly this morning already..."

I hugged her a little more tightly, and stroked her tousled hair. I could completely understand how she felt. If I were able to sense Vash's emotions, I expect that I might be reaching out toward him often, too.

Suddenly she started sobbing hard. The sounds of her cries were so broken-hearted that it made me cry, too. "It hurts so bad," she gasped between sobs. "Somebody just hurt him, in his heart. Somebody he knows and trusts. How can he bear it?"

I hugged her for both of them, and admitted, "I don't know, dear heart. I don't know."

It was a long time before Lumia was able to stop crying.

That was the day when the radio told of towns where large blades appeared from nowhere to cut down the residents. That had to be Knives' doing, and I daresay that Vash would have recognized his brother's handiwork if he heard of it.

I was late to a council meeting, from comforting Lumia. The council understood, when I explained to them the reason I was delayed. They seemed glad of the information, even though it wasn't good news.

I later learned that bounty-hunters had dragged Vash out of a church that day, and then attacked him until his defensive wings barely began to manifest enough to deflect bullets. The town turned on him, calling him a demon and throwing stones at him.

Meryl and Milly had been with Vash and Wolfwood when they came to that town, but only the two men left together after the attack by the bounty hunters. My best guess is that one or both of the ladies turned against him somehow, or did something that felt _to Vash_ as if she had turned against him.

Lumia's understanding of her father's emotions seems to be entirely accurate.

...

It was a few weeks later when all of the communications satellites began to be destroyed. Lumia said it was Knives, and that his hunger and energy were increasing.

A few days after that, Lumia began having difficulty describing Vash's emotions. Resignation, love that brought no joy but only sorrow, and depression seemed foremost. She thought that her father might be moving toward Knives.

A cold fist closed around my heart: I feared that Vash expected to die. Lumia came to the came conclusion. We held on to each other, and prayed for him.

I had to inform the council. If Vash confronted Knives and died... we were all lost.

...

Lumia knew the day that Vash and Knives fought, and again I held her as she cried from the echoes of what her father felt. That was to be the trend, nearly every day during his captivity.

As the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months, my own guilt grew to overwhelming proportions. There must be _something_ that I could do - something besides sitting at home and worrying and praying.

Vash was my friend, and the father of my daughter. He had done so much for every soul on this world... in our village, he was considered family. All of those were very good reasons to do something for him. Now, if only I could figure out _what_ that something should be!

I had been afraid, I realized. If only I had recognized that sooner, perhaps I might have been more useful to him. Knives had assassins and servants... Vash should have allies, and not need to face that madman alone.

I am a councilwoman. I have some say in what our village does. I will motivate these people to aid Vash... he deserves no less. If anything, he deserves more.

I began speaking to the council, and to the engineers and technicians. Somehow, together, we will find a way.

...

When Meryl and Milly returned, I was relieved to see them.

Preparations were well under way. It seemed as if Knives must be holding Vash on the ship that he was using to travel around the planet, primarily in the southern hemisphere, to collect all of the plants that he could find.

When Meryl realized we meant to fight, she appeared shocked. "What are those weird eyes for?" I asked her. "We can't just sit by with our hands in our pockets. Surely, you must understand... though the truth is that you probably know more about what's going on than us, right?"

Then Meryl said her captors had informed her about Vash's past, and she told us what she'd learned.

Some of the others grew concerned that another July incident might happen. I told them that discussion was pointless. I reminded them how it was a miracle that Vash even survived that battle against Knives. I reminded them of the 40 men, our men, which Knives had erased after they launched an assault against him. We ordinary humans are helpless against his kind of power.

I also remembered how Vash had told us not to worry, that we need not do anything. "I will be the one to settle things with him," he had said.

He looked so strong back then! I could scarcely believe my eyes. I'd wanted to go with him, but instead I stopped and allowed him to leave alone. I have often regretted that.

"I fear that this time, too, he will go to fight all alone," I said. "I want to believe in him, yet I wonder... Maybe, this whole time, he's been waiting for us to go and help him."

"That's why, in order to live," I continued, "This one time, when it counts the most, we shall go to his rescue!" I found myself crying. I had meant to contain my emotions better than that, but I couldn't help it. I felt I had failed both him and my village, not to mention the wonderful daughter I had from him. If we were unable to rescue him, I would never be able to forgive myself.

Meryl called my name, but I suddenly realized that the men had a point. July could happen again. However, it would be for a different reason.

"I'm sorry," I said, meaning to apologize for snapping at them earlier. "I just thought of something. If the incident at July does happen again, it would be in order to stop Knives."

"How cruel," I said, unintentionally thinking out loud. "I've been so cowardly all this time..."

When I admitted to my cowardice, Meryl said, "Me, too."

I looked into Meryl's face and eyes, this woman who is perhaps five or six years younger than I. And when I looked, I saw in her an ache and longing that I recognized all too well. I must never permit myself to admit that to another soul. I dare not permit those feelings to show in my own face or eyes around anyone... except, perhaps, Lumia.

I almost envied Meryl the freedom to let her affection show; though I still worried that she might be more like Jessica than like myself. I hope she can learn to love Vash enough to let him go, and leave him free to find someone that he can love _without_ a built-in certainty of early loss.

...

People from our village, especially Brad, were instrumental in Vash's rescue.

However, Vash also participated in his own rescue. Somehow, Vash had reached out to Wolfwood, and Wolfwood had responded.

Between the preacher and ourselves, Vash escaped from Knives' clutches and we got him to a place of safety.

Meryl had known where a gunsmith was that Vash had previously trusted with his gun. She accepted the task of seeking him out, and purchasing his services to provide Vash with a new revolver.

So she went away, with Milly. Later, the gunsmith came to give Vash the gift she sought out and we paid for.

All too soon, Vash left us again to seek out and fulfill his destiny with regard to his brother, Knives.

...

It wasn't long before Lumia came to me with a stricken expression on her face, and I knew that something terrible had happened. "What is it, dear heart?" I asked, though half afraid of the answer, as I wrapped my arms around her.

"Papa is grieving," she said. "Someone very dear to him has died."

"I'm so sorry," I said, hugging her. "That must hurt so very much. I wish we could be with him, and comfort him."

"I wish we were with him, too, Mama," she said. "He got angry for a short while, very incredibly angry, but now he's sad again. Well, he's both sad and determined."

"If someone killed his friend," I said, "he may be determined to get justice. That's especially likely, if it was done at Knives' orders."

"I'm sorry someone died," Lumia said.

"Of course you are, dear heart," I said. I hugged her and comforted her as best I could, while wishing I could also do the same for her father.


	5. Allies

**.**

**Request to Reviewers**: _Please do not include the name of Lumia's mother in public reviews, after you figure it out. Let's permit future readers to discover her identity on their own, ok? *winks conspiratorially*_

**Author's Note:**_ In this chapter, there are spoilers for Trigun Maximum Volumes 11-14_.

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Trigun [Maximum], or Vash, or any of the other characters in that series. I only borrow, and that with respect._

...

**Allies**

When nearly all of the surviving people of No Man's land fled to Octovarn, I believed that I should also go there. It was terribly difficult for me to leave Lumia behind, but I hoped she would be safer at home. It was slightly possible that she could survive, even if no one else from our village did, because she was part plant.

I hoped the same was true for her father, who is fully plant, though he would not be in our village.

I met with Mayor Rogram, of the outsider's town, and joined a meeting with other authorities. I tried to explain to them about plants. They were so accustomed to thinking of plants as mindless technology that it was steeply uphill work.

I also needed to prepare these leaders for the coming ships from Earth. That, too, proved to be neither a simple nor an easy task.

I can't begin to express my relief and delight when I saw him again. Vash, upon whose weary shoulders rested all of our hope. He'd carried that burden, alone, for so very long.

I had successfully rallied our village to assist him. With the backing of our village, I was attempting to persuade the rest of humanity toward the same goal.

In a way, I'm glad that Meryl and Milly were present when I first saw him. Else, I fear I may have weakened enough to display more emotion than I should.

I'd hoped that being able to hug his child would make it easier to maintain an appropriate distance from Vash, when I saw him. Instead, that was making it more difficult. Love of my daughter seemed to have increased my love for her father, instead of diminishing it.

"What's wrong with your face?" Vash asked, when he saw me. I guess that I must have been showing something more than I ought to have done. Thankfully, I was able to pull myself together fairly quickly. "There," he said, "Those are the eyes I've been waiting for!"

I asked where he'd been since he met with Brad and came to town. I tried to tease him, but I may have sounded more harsh than I'd intended, because I'd been so worried about him. "Unbelievable," I said, "Are you telling me you've just been loafing around this whole time?"

"Ah, but at times like this," he said, "more than anything, I just wanted to sit and think for awhile."

_Of course_ he would, I realized. This threat was far too important to deal with impulsively. So I began to update him, giving him information that might help to fuel his next thinking session.

I told him how, if my calculations were correct, combining our remaining power with that of the Earth fleet, we could probably put some pressure on Knives.

Another meeting would shortly begin. Persuading Vash himself to come and speak, well, that was also challenging! He seemed astonished that I would wish to include him. He almost sounded as if he thought he had nothing to contribute.

"What?" he said. "You mean you want me to come, too?"

"Of course," I said. "After all, you have first-hand experience with all of this."

I hope that, someday, someone can help dear Vash to better understand his own worth. I fear I shall not live long enough, nor be able to get close enough, to make much progress in that department myself.

Thankfully, he followed me and my bodyguards to that meeting. However, he ducked out of the next.

Meetings can be very tedious and exhausting at times. I can't blame Vash for preferring to avoid them, as valuable as his assistance would be. It is my turn to sally forth alone, and do the best I can. I must try to persuade everyone to disarm, before they cause a plant rebellion that will aid Knives instead of helping to defeat him.

That evening, I visited Vash's room after dinner. He seemed surprised to see me, though he welcomed me in. I instructed my bodyguards to wait outside. "Lumia asked me to deliver a message to you," I said, "if you don't mind?"

"How is she?" he asked, gesturing toward an overstuffed chair.

"Her shoulder has healed completely, if that's what had you worried," I said gently, and smiled. I was too restless to sit, so I shrugged apologetically and paced a little.

"She admires you very much, but not at all in Jessica's style," I continued. "Lumia is studying to become a doctor. She hopes that you'll be proud to learn she's trying her best to spend her life wisely, since you saved her."

"It sounds like you know her very well," he said. It was almost a question.

"Yes," I said fondly, "I hope so. She's my daughter."

"Your... daughter? But... a child that size... you're not old enough... Adopted?" he said, sounding surprised.

I wasn't going to lie to him, but I could not tell him the truth, either. At least, I couldn't tell him the truth _yet_. He didn't need the distraction, as he prepared to face Knives in battle. Evasion was my best option at that moment.

"I love her," I said softly. "Isn't that what's most important?"

He relaxed. "Yes," he agreed, smiling one of the rare smiles that reached his eyes.

So much of his hair had gone black; that had me worried. He looked so tired. I pulled a chair up by his bed. "I can sit awhile, if you'd feel better not being alone," I offered, and then stepped away from that chair to avoid seeming pushy.

"It wouldn't be the first time I watched over you while you slept," I said casually, shrugging, "though, at least this time, you're not injured and in a hospital."

Did I imagine slightly more warmth in his eyes? "Thank you," he said softly. "I think I'll be all right, though."

"You're sure?" I hesitated, reaching out toward him enough that my fingertips brushed against the coat sleeve covering his right forearm. For some reason, it was terribly difficult to leave him just then. "I'd only keep you company, that's all."

"I know, and thank you," he said. "I'll be fine, tonight."

"Okay," I said, trying not to show how little I liked to leave. "Rest well, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"You, too," he said.

He opened the door for me, and I walked out. I glanced back as he closed the door, and he favored me with one of those pain-filled smiles that always makes my heart ache for him. I smiled back, as reassuringly as I could, until the door closed completely and I could no longer see him.

...

Later that night I went back to check on him, but he was gone.

So for the rest of the night, and much of the next morning, I was frantically searching for Vash along with nearly everyone else who knew him. I was so worried... I nearly snapped at him when we all finally found him.

"We've been looking all over the place," I told him. "Why did you leave all of a sudden in the middle of the night like that?"

"Well, I had to do some handiwork on these dangerous explosives," he said, "So I..."

"And how'd they turn out?" I asked. I was curious, though also eager to change the subject before I betrayed just exactly _how_ concerned I had been.

"Great," he said.

I was glad of that.

"This morning, there was a strange occurrence. Their voices were..."

"They're frightened beyond belief," Vash said solemnly. "And there isn't much time left. They can all feel it... something terrible will happen tonight."

Everyone talked about that a little bit, voices blending into something more resembling confusion than anything useful. Naturally, Vash helped us get to the point.

"We will change things ourselves," he said. "I think we still have a chance. That's why, as far as the 'ark' is concerned, when attacking it, please be sure to keep in mind the 'women' inside. We wouldn't want to hurt them. Since it's coming from such a high angle in the sky, I understand it may be hard. Just do the best you can."

Then his expression changed, and he smacked his fist into his palm. "As far as Knives is concerned," he said, as if speaking an oath, "I don't plan to let him have his way anymore."

"What shall we do?"

Vash explained how there are two kinds of plant power, and suggested a strategy to use one kind against the other. While we considered his words, Meryl started crying.

She was so short, and Vash was so tall, that he had to get down onto his knees to bring his face nearly even with hers. "Don't cry, Meryl," he said gently. "You sure turned into a crybaby while I was gone, didn't you?"

She said nothing, but only lunged toward him and clung to him. "Do you think I'll lose that easily?" he said, wearing his usual "for the public" smile. "You don't really think that, do you?"

"She's just a normal woman," Milly said angrily. "Where do you get off thinking of her as some kind of iron woman, anyway? This is exactly how I would act, too!"

I fought within myself, trying to appear strong and not to cry. At that moment, what Vash needed to feel was our support and our confidence in him - not our selfish fears. I did my best to show that confidence and support in my face and posture. I hope I succeeded. He deserves my best, so I must try to give that to him... no matter how much it hurts.

"Okay, okay," Vash said, gently disengaging Meryl's arms from around his neck. "Meryl," he said, and kissed his own gloved fist.

She looked surprised for a moment, and then kissed her own fist.

They shared a fist-bump, where the kissed parts of their fists met, before he got onto the elevator that took him away from all of us.

The expression in his eyes failed to match the smile on his lips. That's so like Vash, trying to comfort others even when he must be desperately craving comfort himself. I watched as the elevator lifted him out of sight. It felt as if my heart was torn from my body and residing in his pocket... I could feel a pull that grew more painful as he moved away.

"Please tell us..." the mayor began.

"You mean, after all this time," I said, "you still don't know his name? 'Vash the Stampede'?"

"So, that name," he said. "In that case, there is much I have to ask him about."

I smiled. This man, at least, was showing respect to one who so richly deserved it. That was refreshing.

"Everything is about to end," he continued. "So I would truly like to sit and talk with him for a bit. And then, with his approval, I would like to bring the truth to light."

Meryl was still standing there sniffling.

I felt like crying also. But I kept those feelings locked deep inside, where nobody else could see or feel them. As I silently wept within, I also silently prayed for Vash.

...

It was a relief when people from the Earth fleet arrived, and asked for me by name. That gave me something else to think about, besides how deeply I was worried for Vash.

They showed myself, and the others gathered in that meeting, the current status of Knives' 'ark' ship. They explained that this was something called a 'cointegration' and that it was highly dangerous. It could destroy all of their ships, or much of our planet.

They were particularly concerned that one entity seemed to be controlling it.

"Knives," I said.

"You knew of him?" Captain Panse said, sounding surprised.

"He is a creature of boundless strategy and intelligence. In an instant, he was able to completely break through our formation's blockade. Now, we've been pushed into a situation where he can strike us at any time."

"And I'm positive that our little trick will not work a second time."

"Are you saying that when he attacks, we're done for?"

"There is a small chance that we may pull through," Panse said. "All of you are the 'key' to that operation."

"We are?" I said, surprised. Did that mean Vash was risking his life for nothing?

"Yes," he said. "It was for that very reason that we took such a huge risk to come here. There is also one more 'key' that we must obtain to proceed further."

"Yes? We'll give you whatever we can."

"There is a man we are searching for," Panse said, and proceeded to describe Vash. "We need to establish communications with him as soon as possi-"

"It's no use," I said, as calmly as I could. "That man is... right now... out of any range we could possibly contact him within, in an unbelievably dangerous place. He's fighting there, all alone."

It tore at my heart to think of him out there, and all alone. I tried to keep the pain and worry filtered out of the sound of my voice. As a village leader, I must appear (as Milly so aptly described it) as if I were indeed made of iron.

Panse wanted to establish communication with the plants. Meryl and Milly offered to assist, expressing the opinion that they knew Vash better than anyone did. Were they correct? I don't know. Yet they had traveled with him, as I had not.

I borrowed a page from Vash's book. I bottled my pain inside, and smiled. I stayed behind, to do what I could from there.

...

Hours later, they found Vash. He'd been injured and his prosthetic arm had been torn off. They reported he'd said something about killing someone, yet that someone could not have been Knives. Vash passed out as they took him on board the shuttle.

He must have run afoul of one of Knives' associates. Again, I wanted to weep for him. I knew that being compelled to kill would ravage his already wounded and tender heart.

Again, I sealed my worry inside and offered up silent prayers for Vash. Though I wished circumstances were different, I was not on that shuttle with him. There was nothing else that I could do.

We continued all efforts to communicate with the captive plants. We must have had some measure of success, because Knives began to separate himself from the cointegration. However, it was not yet enough success to fully free the captive plants.

I encouraged everyone involved to keep trying.

Then Vash awoke, and he began to communicate with them. The cointegration began to disintegrate.

Feather-like objects began to rain down, coming from the plant's hearts. They were materializations of the thoughts and feelings of the plants.

Vash's people.

He put his all into communicating with them. As he so often does, he focused entirely on saving others... and kept no reserve for himself. When Knives severed the cord used to assist in communication, Vash collapsed. He was too weary to stand, because he had given so much.

And he still needed to fight Knives.

My heart was in my throat. I knew that he must try, and that he would not run from this responsibility. Yet I also feared losing him. That fear was not only for myself... even if Knives had never existed, even if _I_ had never existed... Vash is good for this world. We need more with open, giving hearts like his.

It was love of Vash that turned the tide with the plants. They chose Vash's way, of love and peace, instead of the violent path that Knives had tried to drive them onto.

Another attack from the Earth people knocked Knives from the skies.

Vash jumped from the shuttle, to confront Knives. An independent plant from earth, whose friend Knives had slain, saw them battling and aimed her shuttle toward them. She crashed nearby.

She reported that Vash threw himself across Knives, between his brother and her shuttle. After that, Vash extended his wings and flew away with his brother in his arms. She would have pursued them, and possibly killed both; but Vash's ally, Livio, prevented her.

That was the last anyone knew of either brother, for quite some time.

...

I lingered in Octovarn for as long as I could, but eventually I had to return home to our village. Lumia and the others needed me, and I would no more evade my own responsibilities than Vash would evade his.

Lumia could not sense anything from her father, which devastated both of us.

When this information was reported to the rest of the council, there was again mention of Vash's frozen seed sample. I volunteered, again, to perpetuate his family line.

Because of Lumia's proven sensitivity, and because she sensed nothing, there was no delay.

Unlike previously, when the "procedure" worked, I did not go away to a different town. I did stay mostly secluded, since we still did not wish to advertise what was happening. However, I was _very_ pregnant when the newscast came that made me smile again.

Lumia and Brad were with me that day. We all watched as Meryl, along with several bounty hunters, chased Vash into the desert.

Meryl should have known Vash well enough to understand that he would not wish to be on television. I hoped, for both of their sakes, that this was her way of letting him go.

The most important thing, however, is that Vash is _alive_. I hugged Lumia around her younger sibling, and we both laughed from relief and joy. He must have been keeping his emotions quiet, to avoid being discovered by the plant that came with the Earth ships.

I know that, one day, Vash will return to our village again. Even if that day comes too late for me to see it, his children will be there to greet him.

...

...

...

...

_In the unlikely event that anyone has yet to discover the name of Lumia's mother... try reading the first letter of each chapter title._ :)

...

... _the tale of Lumia, her mother and her sibling, continues post-manga in_ "Daughters of a Desert World."


End file.
